


fukuzatsu  na shinkyou

by skioctober



Series: ode to self-indulgence [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Halloween, Self-Insert, halloween party, just some dumb cute shit, my sister being a wise-ass, round 3, some character development, some relationship development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-10 12:45:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18660709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skioctober/pseuds/skioctober
Summary: She hasn't had so much to drink that she can't keep those thoughts to herself, so she dutifully folds them up and tucks them into a mental box, which she then heaves into the deepest depths of her mind, never to be seen again.Or she tries to.





	fukuzatsu  na shinkyou

**Author's Note:**

> Title translates to "complicated feelings".
> 
> Here we are with part three. 
> 
> I enjoyed the way this one turned out. Alyssa and Steve, although they will have their ups and downs like anyone else, are the quintessential romantic couple. They are truly #GOALS. So I want Anna and James to be something more of a slow burn, fumbling "why are you making this harder than it needs to be" relationship. But it'll all work out.
> 
> There is a moment where James gets overwhelmed by the noise and has a reaction to it, but it's all very mild and I don't think it should be triggering for anyone. But I figured I should say something anyway, just in case.
> 
> Hopefully y'all enjoy this as much I do. As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated.

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“Are you seriously going to skip out on the party tomorrow? I thought y'all made up!”

Anna rolls her eyes, jostling the phone between her cheek and shoulder. “I'm not missing the party because of James. We talked, we apologized, we're good.”

“Then why aren't you coming?” Anna can hear the pout in her sister's voice. “Sam told me specifically to invite you. It'll hurt her feelings if you bail.”

Anna sighs, eyeing the polish on her toes critically. “Sam is going to be drunk off her ass, she won't notice if I don't make it.”

“Oh, yes she will. And because she'll be drunk off her ass, she'll cry about it.”

“Damn. She'll totally cry about it. But they're all your friends.”

“Okay, and? That didn't stop you from coming last year, and my friends all love you. You're like their honorary big sister.”

“Ugh, Alyssaaaaa....”

“Annaaaaaaa,” she echoes. There's a significant pause. “Steve's making caramel apples.”

Anna wavers.

She has her pride, but Steve Rogers cooks like an angel and she knows for a fact he makes that caramel from his great-grandmother's own recipe. It's a dirty trick – she's been looking forward to those apples and Alyssa knows it.

“Fine, I'll go. But only for an hour and only for Steve's caramel apples.”

“Yay! Sam will be happy. What are you going as?”

“Shit, I don't know. I wasn't planning on doing anything this year, so I didn't buy a costume.”

“So, what I'm hearing is you need to go shopping.”

“If that's what you heard, you're as deaf as the rest of our family.”

“Suck my dick. I'll be there in twenty, get your shit together.”

“Fuck you.”

“I've got that covered, thanks.”

Disgusted, Anna ends the call and tosses her phone aside, earning a disgruntled _mrrp_ from Pickles, whose nap she had interrupted.

True to her word, Alyssa pulls up outside the apartment twenty minutes later. She beeps her horn obnoxiously until Anna slides into the passenger seat.

“Could you fucking not?”

“Eh, shut up. Let's go play dress up!”

“Coffee first.”

“It's literally almost four in the afternoon.”

“Did I stutter?”

 

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Despite her complaints to Alyssa, the party isn't all bad.

Sam is only a little drunk, and entirely focused on her fianceé, so Anna is hanging back near the snack table and working on her third caramel apple.

It will have to be her last one, too. Any more sugar and she'll be sick as a dog. She's had a couple of drinks, sweet and punchy, and she can feel the buzz of sugar and booze settling in.

She'll probably feel that in the morning.

But so far she's having a nice time. She's gotten several compliments on her costume, which improves her mood. She'd felt silly buying the Rockford Peaches getup – she's never even seen _A League of Their Own –_ but it was cheap and had come in her size.

Alyssa's flapper costume is much prettier, but she'd also had more time to prepare it. She looks stunning next to Steve, who in turn looks very dashing as a police officer.

A little too dashing – several of Alyssa's friends have already made attempts to get Steve to handcuff them.

Sam is now trying to get them all to play games, demands for Twister or truth-or-dare called drunkenly over the din of the stereos.

Cheers go up and Anna creeps further down the table, away from the commotion.

She wants no part of _that_.

Mortifying flashbacks of middle and high school pass before her eyes – the mocking titters of her peers as they issue one humiliating order after another.

_Fuck that._

She'll stick with her caramel apple. But she watches with immense enjoyment as Sam and Alyssa goad Steve onto the Twister mat. He's surprisingly limber for a brick shithouse.

“Not gonna play?”

The voice startles her and she jumps, eyes snapping over to land on its source.

James, of course.

“Sorry,” he mutters, backing away from her sharp glare. “Didn't mean to spook you.”

She forces herself to relax. He hadn't done it on purpose, and seems to be making an effort toward being friendly. “It's fine. I jump easy. Alyssa scares me all the time for a laugh.”

His lips quirk up at that. “Used to do that to my sister, when we were kids. Jumped right outta her skin every time, then Ma would swat me for makin' a racket.”

Anna can't help the bark of laughter that escapes, imagining him being scolded by his mother. “You have a sister?”

He nods, watching Steve bend himself into a shape that should be anatomically impossible. “Becca. Younger, still up in New York. She's a civil rights lawyer, gets a lot of cases. Wants to open her own firm.”

“That's really cool. Y'all talk often?”

“About three times a week she calls me, 'cause I hardly ever text. She's getting married next spring, too, so she's always calling to worry about shit.”

“That's sweet, though, that she calls you.”

“She can be sweet,” he allows, sipping at his punch. From the spicy scent of it, she assumes it's been doctored. “Mostly she's just tough. Takes no prisoners.”

Anna toasts his sister with her apple. “My kinda gal.”

“You'd probably get along with her.”

They lapse into silence.

Anna nibbles idly on the remains of her apple, thinking. She hasn't seen James since she stormed out of the bar. Over a phone call arranged by Steve and Alyssa – meddling old biddies, the pair of them – they'd talked things over, exchanged apologies.

But now they're here, making polite if awkward small talk. She admits she half-expected him to comment on the scant length of her skirt and feels a touch guilty.

“I'm sorry,” she says, surprising him. “I know we talked about this already, but I felt like I should say it to your face. I shouldn't have lost my temper or talked to you like I did, and I'm sorry.”

“Well, I said some stupid shit myself. I know better than to talk to a lady like that. I'm sorry, too.”

“Well, good.” She starts twirling the apple stick between her fingers, nervous. “Glad we got that said and done.”

The silence lapses over, still stiff, and out of mild anxiety she grapples to fill it.

She looks him over, taking in the white t-shirt tucked into dark blue jeans, and the worn leather jacket. “You supposed to be James Dean?”

He grins a little, almost shyly. Tosses his head to move a loose strand of hair, the rest slicked back for the costume.

Anna wishes he didn't look so good doing it.

“Yeah. I was really just bein' lazy, since I had all the stuff already. Surprised you noticed it. Everyone else thought I just didn't bother dressin' up.”

She shrugs lightly. “TV last night had a special on about him. Just had it on my mind, I guess. Looks good.”

“Thanks.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but thinks better of it. “Yours is nice, too. It's a good movie.”

“Never seen it.” She picks idly at the hem of her skirt. “It was cheap, and they had one in my size. I hadn't planned on going anywhere tonight, so pickings were slim.”

“Sister said she had to twist your arm to get you to come out.” He stares hard at the drink in his hand, watching the contents swirl round and round. “That my fault?”

Another pang. Now that her anger is gone, Anna just feels bad for making him feel bad. Like she'd kicked a puppy.

“No. I mean, I wasn't sure how we'd do around each other, but I wasn't deliberately avoiding you.” He eyes her skeptically, and she huffs. “Don't be so conceited. I was trying to avoid the entire party. Not really my thing.”

And it isn't her thing. Since her crash-and-burn relationship, nothing's really been her thing. Most times it takes all her energy to get up and go to work every morning. She rarely has any desire to go out and socialize.

And Christ, she thinks. Alyssa was right.

All she does is work and sleep. At this rate, she'll start spiraling again and that's the last thing she needs.

“I know what you mean,” he murmurs, voice distant, tired. “I used to like goin' out, drinkin' with our buddies. Had a lotta fun. Now it's just a buncha light and noise.”

“Too many people.”

He nods. “Too damn many. Nothin' fun about it anymore.” _Nothing fun about anything anymore._

He doesn't have to say the words for Anna to hear them, to feel them resonate inside her. Empathy blooms, opens her up to him.

A cacophony of jeering laughter explodes across the room. Anna snaps her head around to see Steve in a heap on the floor, face red from being upside down.

And probably the hooch Alyssa had dared him to try. City-slicker.

Amused, she turns back to James to see his reaction. And frowns.

His hand is relaxed, or looks it, but his plastic cup is bent and warped. The sheen of liquid gleams on the backs of his fingers. When she glances at his face, his eyes are burning a hole into the drink and his jaw is clenched tight.

She only hesitates for a moment.

“I'm over all this noise,” she says easily, swiping a napkin off the table and, without pausing or making an issue of it, quickly cleaning his hand. It's unwise to touch him when he's wound up so, but her detached efficiency seems to settle him. “Let's sit outside a spell. Sam and Dalton have a nice patio.”

She doesn't give him time to react, doesn't try to coddle him. She casts her eyes over the table, snagging a half-empty bottle of what looks like bourbon.

She weaves through the drunken revelers, deftly avoiding any attempts to pull her into the games and pretending she doesn't see Alyssa giving her A Look. She'll likely hear about that later.

They make it to the patio unscathed, and Anna slides the door closed behind them. Blessedly, they have the space to themselves and she's relieved they won't have to share it with smokers and couples trying to swallow each other whole.

She curls up cross-legged on the cushioned swing, settling the bottle in her lap, and motions for James to sit beside her. Smiles softly when he does.

His damaged cup is gone, presumably thrown away, so Anna twists the cap off the bottle and passes it over.

He takes it silently, knocks back a hard swallow. Grimaces. “The fuck is this?”

He braces the bottle against his thigh, turns it around to read the label. “Sailor Jerry's?”

“What?” Anna leans over to inspect it. “Goddammit. I thought I grabbed the bourbon.”

“Nope,” James says, taking another swig. “Just a bottle of shit.”

“Oh, get fucked,” she mutters, lacking any real bite. “It was dim and I'm blind as shit.”

“Oh yeah?” He passes it back to her, snorts at the pinched face she makes. “Where're your glasses?”

“Up your ass.”

“Classy, doll. Real classy.”

They pass the bottle between them, soon forgetting the awful taste, and the party still rolling along behind them. Before long it's just them and the rum, the cool autumn night.

The rain has moved on, taking with it the damp chill that had hung over the town. It's not too cold and the sky is clear, dotted with a smattering of stars.

Orion and Gemini wink down at them, but Anna's just tipsy enough that she can't pick out any of their neighbors.

James is quiet, eyes gone silver in the starlight and fixed on a pot of red mums as though the little flowers hold all the secrets of the universe.

Anna looks at him, thinks again that it's ridiculous just how pretty he is, wonders if he's even real. Wonders if he thinks she's pretty, too, and then tells herself that is the stupid fucking thing ever. That she needs to get her shit together and steer clear of that train wreck waiting to happen.

Once was more than enough.

She hasn't had so much to drink that she can't keep those thoughts to herself, so she dutifully folds them up and tucks them into a mental box, which she then heaves into the deepest depths of her mind, never to be seen again.

Or she tries to.

Because as soon as she starts to let go, James looks over to meet her eyes – _you stared too long_ – and the box falls out of her hands to break open, all those traitorously sweet thoughts, tightly budded feelings, spilling out for anyone to see.

“Thank you,” he says, softly, and with a deliberateness that makes her heart flutter – _stop that_ – pleasantly. “For bringing me out here. It's nice. It helped.”

And then he does the unthinkable. He smiles at her.

So genuine, so open, so completely trusting of her, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of her lungs.

“You're welcome,” she manages, distantly intrigued by this ability to speak with _no air in her lungs._

He looks away, settles back into the swing and uses one strong leg to start them rocking gently back and forth.

The smile remains on his face, remains imprinted on Anna's heart.

 _You fucking idiot,_ she despairs. _What have you done?_

 

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End file.
